“You felt no sorrow? No shame? Then?” “Yes, shame, maybe. Maybe sorrow, too, a little. I knew it was terrible. I felt that it was, of course. But still – you see – ” “Yes, I know. That Miss X. You wanted to get away.” “Yes – but mostly I was frightened, and I didn’t want to help her.” “Yes! Yes! Tst! Tst! Tst! If she drowned you could go to that Miss X. You thought of that?” The Reverend McMillan’s lips were tightly and sadly compressed. “Yes.” “My son! My son! In your heart was murder then.”
